early copper, first OTs

15th April

Forecast was set fair if cool so I planned a cycle to East Lothian to check up on a couple of butterflies. There had been word of a Holly Blue being spotted in N Berwick by a reliable source. I thought it was about time to check up on our blue friends in the Gullane area - the ones seen in 3 or more areas back in the second brood of 2019 (August). Would they be back this Springtime?

First though I stopped off at a sheltered spot after Aberlady along the golf course where you often find butterflies. When I arrived it felt devoid of insects but I had a bit of a scout about and something small and orangey jumped up out the grasses. A Small Copper! I was gob-smacked. It seemed to be particularly small and tricky to photograph and I was a little over-excited. I had a mental wish list of things I hoped I might see but coppers weren't even on it. It made up for the lack of anything else there or at the next stop or 2. I did feel a bit sorry for it wondering how long it would be before any partners turned up. Do butterflies feel lonely? I thought this might have been one of the first Small Copper sightings in Scotland and reported it to the local recorder.

Next up was the prime spot in August for Holly Blues: up the West end of the town where the large houses meet the golf course. Almost immediately it was apparent there would be no Blues. The foodplant from August, snow-berry, was not in flower or fruit and so there was nothing to attract the butterflies. I had a feeling they might slide back into their signature obscurity despite a hope they might adopt the characteristics they have down South where they are the most common of blue butterflies likely to be found in back gardens. And not the slippery magicians of now-you-see-me-now-you-don't Scottish appearances.

I cycled along past the public toilets and then to the Gatehouse at Archerfields where the same story played out. It was disappointing but half-expected. To cheer myself up I went in search of Orange Tips and Speckled Woods which had begun to emerge over the last few days. I cycled down the grassy path between the trees to the golf course seeing nothing of either. I checked a couple of usual haunts of the Speckleds but nothing stirred. Deciding I would conjour up an Orange Tip through pure determination (I mean they had to be here somewhere?!) I leaned my bike up against a tree and marched into the best looking undergrowth to where some yellow flowers must be sheltering an orange tip or 2. Much to my delight one did emerge from the long grasses somewhere but was more interested in dandelions and some yellow wildflowers than the prettier primroses. It even stopped long enough for a photo unlike a lot of the reported OTs which were hell bent on looking for lady OTs and wouldn't pause for a photo whatsoever.

what you often get at the beginning of OT season

a distant sighting heading off over brambly tussocky hell

success!

if the sun isn't blasting down an OT will close its wings and go

into stasis while it waits on the sun returning

The orange wing tips are hidden away and the cleverly camouflaged underwings

made only of white, black and yellow scales (not green) help conceal the butterfly

Later as I was cycling back towards Aberlady this OT was dancing along the side of the road visiting daisies. I jumped off my bike got the camera out and got a couple of shots before it went off down the centre of the road.

Last butterfly of the day was this one - part of a squad of Tortoiseshells local resident Alison had flagged up on the outskirts of Aberlady opposite the converted church where a patch of rough ground and nettles was hoaching with butterfly feuds and aerial battles.

When I posted this report on the facebook butterfly group page I was rebuked for the length of time I was out and that it was not local. I had been unaware there was any limit on exercise times or distances until that point. I believe the only ever mention of a time limit to lockdown exercise, other than Michael Gove giving off the cuff estimates in response to a journalist asking, was a guideline issued before the Easter Bank Holiday when Westminster feared sunny weather would induce a mass beach BBQ and street parties country-wide. I asked a friend who is a senior civil servant about the hour limit and he confirmed there was a notional limit of an hour for exercise but was unable to show anything other than the pre-Easter guideline.

Very few if any of my sporting pals were aware of the hour rule. Or if they were, paid it no attention. Runners ran for 2 or 3 hours, cyclists went 60milers and everyone posted their stats on strava. People that I spoke to were like myself, keen to do everything possible to avoid receiving or transmitting the virus, but knew long solitary cycles to places devoid of humanity were very low to zero risk. Certainly compared to walking through town or going into a supermarket where it was often almost impossible to stay a minimum of 2m away from other shoppers and shopworkers.

This was the first time I felt the red face of a public shaming on social media. Such things were to become more and more frequent on social media. An understandable if toxic desire to point a finger at someone clearly behaving in a way below the standards you and your lockdown household were working hard to uphold. I couldn't believe Judy Murray posting a photo of a vandalised Landrover and trailer which had the words "go home idiots, covid19" painted on it, tyres flat. She posted it to discourage "those relocating to the countryside." Really? Inciting hate crime and mindless vandalism is legitimised by nice Judy Murray. Fucksake. And this was way early on before all of the depressing things to follow.

I suppose many people are grumpy because they've had their freedoms taken away. And they can't get rid of their kids to schools and nurseries. Or buy toilet rolls. More grouchy than normal. And when they see folk like myself going lovely long bike rides and photographing butterflies, apparently ignoring guidelines, and having a rather nice time, well they are bound to get cranky. I thought I better behave more appropriately, even if I wasn't doing anything reprehensible. Or at the very least, cover my tracks. You know what folk are like.